<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>peaceful environment by WhiteSheep</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369730">peaceful environment</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteSheep/pseuds/WhiteSheep'>WhiteSheep</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Monsters [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Among Us (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alien Biology, Alien Impostor(s) (Among Us), Alien Sex, Fingerfucking, First Time, Hand Jobs, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other, Oviposition, Penetration, Rough Sex, Rule 34, Tentacles, The Skeld (Among Us), Xenophilia, i put m/m but i use 'them' pronouns so whatever, where i honor the internet code, where the human fucks the alien instead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:08:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteSheep/pseuds/WhiteSheep</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>White' job, as the only doctor on board, is to take care of the crew’s health. That now includes someone with completely different biology than what he is familiar with.</p><p>It does not mean that he will stop trying, of course.</p><p>-</p><p>He keeps the touch light and gentle as he murmurs, “let me see?”</p><p>They give a whole-body shudder. “No,” they heave out, curling even tighter. They shake frantically their head, long blue hair rustling against their not-suit. “No. You— you c-can’t. If you—I don’t want…”</p><p>“You don’t want me here?”</p><p>Cyan whimpers. “I don’t want to scare you.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>White/Impostor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Monsters [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>657</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>peaceful environment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/709141">Tfw you’re an imposter but the crew actually takes you in and the sudden peaceful environment triggers your heat like a motherfucker.</a> by SteamWhistle.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>where someone said, "wait, what if..... the <i>human</i> fucked the alien" and my brain went Σ(°ロ°) and thus this was born. My first actual fanfiction in this account! And of course is about weird, kinky alien-sex, what else did you expect?</p><p>I didn't want to write <i>White did this and that</i> so White became Shiro (which means white in Japanese (・ωｰ)～☆ )</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>MIRA opted for colors to divide its departments, with military rank and crew indicated by badges. Therefore, when entering any spaceship, a glance is usually enough to ascertain what responsibilities fall on each crew member. This means that when they discovered an infiltration in The Skeld and that the person under the cyan suit was not at all a person – in fact, there was not even an 'under the suit' situation – the irony that they were without their xenobiologist is not lost on anyone.</p><p>On the other hand, one could argue no one as qualified has ever held the position before – even though it is clear that their little imposter, whatever is their occupation in their own civilization (aside from, possibly, ‘spy’ and ‘hitman’), is certainly not the equivalent of a scientist. They have shown zero interest in the ward doubling as an infirmary and laboratory.</p><p>Or maybe it's a matter of self-preservation. While typically the two departments would be like peas in a pod, in The Skeld it became common to see a cyan suit running away from a dark blue one, with their resident astrobiologist unfaltering in her quest for knowledge.</p><p>It is understandable, then, the verified alien’s reluctance to get close to the medical wing.</p><p>But it is no less inconvenient when Shiro’s job is to take care of the crew’s general health, which now includes someone with completely different biology than what Shiro is familiar with. Being the only doctor aboard a spaceship that’s being fixed mid-flight means he, for the most part, stays in the aforementioned medical wing. And with only one nurse to help him, he ends up not having a lot of chances to look for a certain cyan suit to ask some pertinent questions about what constitutes health for them, especially when the engineering and internal maintenance team is still showing up with burns and radioactive poisoning almost on a daily basis.</p><p>It does not mean that he will stop trying, of course. Complacency is not how he got this job.</p><p>This determination only increases when news arrives that their unexpected crewmate has been spotted, quote: 'acting weird', by several people. With no one wanting to address the most obvious concern when the coexistence between the two species has been nothing short of peaceful, by the time Shiro hears about this, most have already decided to let their alien companion deal with whatever is bothering them on their own – until at least they decide to request assistance. And that is the main reason why Shiro grabs a basic medical kit at the end of his shift and instead of going to his dorm, goes on an obstinate hunt around the space-ship.</p><p>Which brings him to the current situation, one hand clutching the kit and the other on the door scanner to the oxygen room, facing Cyan – the incredibly original nickname the crew came up with – tucked between one of the O2 tanks and the filter, legs pressed together and pulled close to the chest and arms wrapped around themselves. The local light is bad, but he can see they are without a 'helmet', as it has become their habit since discovering humans, as a rule, don’t like talking to opaque visors. Their skin tone is slightly… bluish, with their hair and eyebrows sharing the same color as the suit, their eyes shining in the dark like a nocturnal animal from Earth. And Shiro stares baffled.</p><p>Not by Cyan’s overall appearance but rather – and Shiro <em>really</em> wishes he could use another word -- the... tentacle-things squirming underneath their legs.</p><p>“… Cyan?”</p><p>Blue lips recoil and expose rows of sharp teeth with a low-pitched, doubled hiss a human throat cannot produce. It would have been a terrifying sight, if he hadn't witnessed this exact reaction dozens of times in the past few weeks, especially when a dark blue astrobiologic was around, with nothing happening but a bit of an insight into their internal anatomy.</p><p>"L-leave!"</p><p>He should comply when it is obvious how distressed Cyan is. But his brain is blue-screening and he feels welded to the floor. “What... is that?”</p><p>Cyan makes a thrumming sound, almost like a whine in its pitch, except more harmonious. “D-don’t look!” They fidget in a way that Shiro would have classified as ‘anxious’ in a human, frazzled, ankles curling closer before they lower their legs quickly, thighs still glued together – as if to hide the two... reddish tentacles. It doesn't work, because soon they appear along the undersides of the thighs, sliding over their knees and leaving a trail of moisture that gleams in the weak light. As if that was not enough, the new pose immediately reveals the existence of a third tentacle coming out more directly from their lap, pink this time, even with them hastily shoving their hands over the region like someone trying to hide their groin. Considering the new limb is as long as his arms, the result is flawed.</p><p>And that's when the thought hits Shiro, almost suddenly. <em>Is</em> it their groin? The placement — but that would be according to normality on Earth. They have yet to establish where Cyan came from. Anatomical logic as he is used to has no place here.</p><p>Except—</p><p>“Don’t- don’t look,” they repeat in a whimper, voice thin. “Please.”</p><p>He feels his throat tightening with mortification. “Oh, God, are you—” He chokes back the next words when Cyan flinches. He stumbles a step back. “S-sorry! I, I thought you were sick or something. That’s why- I didn’t mean to- Uh, I’ll leave you to- to...” With no idea how to finish this sentence, Shiro promptly turns to leave.</p><p>Maybe to go throw himself off the boarding bridge.</p><p>A pitiful, strumming whine halts him, however, like a hook yanking at his stomach. He freezes still technically inside the room and keeping the door open, the dim light casting his elongated shadow across the dark corridor. Some scuffling behind him, a clang of hands against metal scrambling to grasp something as Cyan breathes in shakily together with a squelchy sound. Hand tightening around the kit, Shiro feels heat slowly spreading across his face. He thinks… how this really is a great hiding place, considering that since Cyan gave up on their mission, no one has any reason to come here. And with the rest of the crew determined to stay away, this should concern him – and it does, but... for the wrong reasons. Shiro should be alarmed by the possibility of sabotage, that Cyan changed their mind again and not with... with the thought of Cyan sitting in the dark, seeking physical comfort alone. Because if he leaves, Cyan will be... well, alone.</p><p>He remembers Cyan telling them they were supposed to come in a pair, but that something happened and they ended up here on their own.</p><p>He tries to imagine what it would be like if he were alone inside an unknown space-ship, surrounded by aliens whose behavior could be generously called non-hostile – then takes a deep breath and retreats the one step he took and another, entering the room once and for all, finally letting the door close. The sounds behind him quiet down and Cyan wheezes a small, confused trill. “D… Doc?”</p><p>Licking his suddenly dry lips, he doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he deposits the medical kit on the floor and reaches for his helmet (used more out of habit and precaution than real need, since the sabotages stopped), and opens the latches. The hiss of pressurized air almost drowns out the shrill little sound Cyan makes as Shiro takes off his helmet, feeling the sudden change when his face goes from a perfectly regulated environment to a warm one. Humid. Straightening up with a deep breath. Without the filter now, the smell finally reaches him – meaty and almost... sweet. Not exactly what he was expecting, but instead of bothering him, it does the opposite and Shiro can feel his blush deepening.</p><p>Oh, <em>hell</em>.</p><p>Shiro runs a gloved hand through the mess that is his hair now and turns around with the helmet under his arm. Glowing eyes stare at him from where the alien is huddled in a ball, still desperately trying to hide something. Blue hair is plastered against their forehead. "Doc?" Cyan calls again, voice a whisper. “What… why are you not l-leaving?”</p><p>He approaches a step, his free hand raised in a gesture of peace. They still flinch. “I...” He pauses. Clears his throat. “Look, this might- I might be way out of line here, and if so, you can 100% tell me to fuck off and I will. I just… thought to offer.”</p><p>“W-what?”</p><p>Blush rising to the tips of his ears, Shiro struggles to keep his expression even. “Help. Mine, specifically. With, uh…” Hand finding the curve of his neck, he indicates with his chin. “... that.”</p><p>Cyan widens their eyes, tentacles twitching then coiling closer to them with squishing noises. “What!?”</p><p>“It’s just an offer!”</p><p>“B-but...” They are letting out low huffs, shoulders hunched inwards. Their eyebrows join in the middle of their sweaty forehead. “I thought y-you didn’t like when- when I… You all look so s-scared when…”</p><p>Shiro looks at Cyan, bottom lips between his teeth, and approaches slowly. Their breathing quickens with each step he takes and when he finally kneels carefully in front of them and puts down the helmet, Cyan is rasping out outright pants through their slightly open mouth, showing the tips of their sharp teeth. Their shoulders shudder up and down, boots— or feet posing as boots squeaking against the damp floor glistering in the dim light, as they turn inwards. They emit a low growl, not that different from a bristling cat when Shiro places a hand over one of their knees. “Don’t… don’t touch me…”</p><p>He keeps the touch light and gentle as he murmurs, “let me see?”</p><p>They give a whole-body shudder. “No,” they heave out, curling even tighter. They shake frantically their head, long blue hair rustling against their not-suit. “No. You— you c-can’t. If you—I don’t want…”</p><p>“You don’t want me here?”</p><p>Cyan whimpers. “I don’t want to scare you.”</p><p>Shiro blinks… then lets out a soft ‘oh’, watching the tensely coiled crewmate under a different light. Although there is no longer any need to hide, Cyan continued to maintain their impeccable mimicry. So, if it weren't for the occasional non-human sounds and impressive displays of strength, no one could’ve said they were not human. Shiro assumed it was a matter of convenience; that their impersonation was like clothes and they kept it because they couldn’t be bothered to change back. But now the doctor wonders if that is not the case – if maintaining this appearance requires effort. They are obviously distracted now, and the line between the suit and human skin replica is... dissolving. He can see where on the neck the theoretical fabric blends into the skin, which in turn has lost the color of the human palette and shows an even bluer hue, with an almost ... indigo glow, that Shiro is starting to think is their version of a blush. The suit under his glove feels less like tight clothing he could pinch away and more like real skin, smooth and warm.</p><p>Have they... been keeping this up so as not to scare the crew?</p><p>The last knot of apprehension tied behind his stomach melts when he realizes that <em>yes</em>, that is exactly what they have been doing. And the moment it was compromised – or because it would be compromised – they hid as best they could, avoiding everyone.</p><p>Shiro feels himself going soft, and the feelings of concern and sympathy that made him kneel here morph into something more tender. He slides his hand down the side of their thighs as if to calm its tremors. “You won’t. It’s okay, Cyan. I want to help you,” he says gently.</p><p>Cyan makes a distressed sound, eyes squeezed shut. “… w-why?”</p><p>He could say something along the lines of ‘<em>because you look in pain and I’m a doctor</em>’ or ‘<em>it’s my job to take care of everyone</em>’ – neither would be right, however. Yes, it’s his job to look after any crewmember in physical discomfort but certainly not to this extent. And Shiro most definitely would not offer to help if he, for example, had walked into the captain wanking off. Or anyone else, for that matter.</p><p>(That the exception apparently is the shapeshifter alien does not bode well for him, does it?)</p><p>So, he merely answers, “because I want to.”</p><p>Their eyes blink open and stare at him. Up close, with Shiro partially blocking the light, the reflection attenuates and he can finally see that their eyes, like the rest, have partially lost their grasp on humanness: pupil-less irises of a startling light blue expand almost completely over the sclera, which in turn appear to be made of liquid obsidian. Alien-looking and unsettling… and yet he finds his own hand reaching out, cupping an azure cheek to brush gently the indigo tints on the skin beneath one of them and without thinking – despite knowing how easily Cyan can kill someone with their mouth alone – Shiro leans forward, pressing their foreheads together.</p><p>The warm wafts of Cyan’s heavy breathing falter, indigo deepening in saturation under his touch. “Doc,” they whisper, words laded with affliction. “You shouldn’t— you shouldn’t,” But when Shiro tugs their knees apart, although shaking... Cyan allows it. The smell immediately becomes more pronounced when their thighs part, overly sweet in a way that prompts forward childhood memories of carnival fairs and stands of caramelized apples. He swallows through a parched throat, and he can almost taste it, as he moves back to look down at what Cyan was trying so desperately to hide: in the groin area – a reminder that in front of him is not a person in a spacesuit but a shapeshifter imitating a suit with a person inside – the cyan fabric splits open, showing a pink and apparently soft interior, lined with a transparent slick that drips in abundance to the floor. The longer appendage twitching against their belly protrudes from the most superior region, while the other two more reddish and shorter seem to come out of the same hole further down, coiling and moving against each other.</p><p>Shiro lets out a breathy <em>oh</em>, blinking quickly. Alien-looking for sure, but… well. Somehow his heart is pounding and he’s not recoiling.</p><p>He reaches out without thinking but freezes when there’s a twanging whimper, the knee under his hand spasming. Shiro looks back at Cyan, who has their hands pressed over their mouth in an incredibly human gesture, breath labored. Their eyes are closed with almost visible effort.</p><p>“Can I…?”</p><p>A ragged trill thrums in their throat and tension ripples through them at the unfinished question. Yet, their legs spread a hint wider instead of closing and they give a jerky, little nod.</p><p>Shiro finishes moving his hand down, and what greets his fingers is a yielding warmth he can feel even through the glove. He traces a thumb along the edges where red flesh turns light blue, feeling the difference of softness between the two parts. Cyan shudders, pulling a sharp, little inhale—that immediately melts into a trembling moan when Shiro takes hold of the pinkish limb, trembling as his fingers wrap around the base where a thin membrane seems to connect both parts, making him think this part stays normally tucked inside their body. “Just so we are on the same page,” Shiro says softly, letting his fingers wander over this pulsating and flexible thing. It is so smooth, almost slippery, making the little ridges that could be veins or something else entirely, stand out all the more under his grip. “I did walk in on you trying to get off, right?”</p><p>They try to whimper behind their hands, a syllable of some half-hearted answer as their hips jolt up into his hand. “I- ah, ah—"</p><p>A breath slips from Shiro, whose face feels heated. The beginning of arousal is starting to protest the suit and this is perhaps the strangest, weirdest self-discovery of his life to date – that this is, <em>in fact,</em> turning him on. “Okay,” he mumbles. “Okay.” Closing his grip, he drags his hand up the tentacle, slowly. Inch after inch with slick gathering on his glove until he reaches the oddly fringed extremity, thin tendrils wiggling around a rounded tip with a puckered little hole. A sheen of built-up liquid there creates a sticky sound when he delicately rubs the area experimentally, spreading the wetness around. Cyan makes a strangled sound, pressing against the wall as their feet grind at the floor.</p><p>“Doc,” they whimper, thighs quivering. “D-Doc—hhng.” Their other tentacles ripple, writhing against each other, and Shiro reaches for them on instinct. They immediately respond, rubbing eagerly around his wrist and smearing alien pre all over his suited arm as he wraps his free hand around one. As yielding as the longer one, it feels a bit more muscled and even sleeker, his fingers gliding across its natural lubrication easily. He can hear the <em>shlik shlik</em> noise as he strokes back and forth, thumb pressed over the middle finger to create a tight ring while he runs his other thumb pad across the slit of the hose-like limb. “N… no, n-nno…”</p><p>He is close to panting himself. “No?” Tongue playing over his teeth, he shifts forward feeling his boxers stretched and uncomfortable. His hands are hot. “Should I stop?”</p><p>Cyan let out choked moans, and their legs twist and jerk to each side as the back of their head digs into the wall behind them. “Don’t,” they plea in one rush of breath, their hips tilting upwards into his strokes, one hand fumbling to grasp the edge of the filter. “Donng…ah, ah— p-please…”</p><p>His brain is sizzling inside his skull. Dazed. “More then?”</p><p>A strangled whine and jerky nod are his answer. Shiro hums, examining Cyan’s body with as much rationality as he can right now – not wanting to hurt them by doing something he shouldn’t. He gently traces the rim of the hole from where the two bright red tongue-like appendages are coming out of, lower between their legs. Cyan’s breath hiccups into a gasp midway and fresh liquid flows out, dribbling down their inner thighs to join the increasingly bigger puddle on the floor, tentacles trembling and seizing around his wrist. Thinking it a positive reaction, he does it again, and they thrash their head to the side, voice breaking into tiny sobs. “Doc—<em>Doc</em>.”</p><p>“Like this?” he rasps out.</p><p>Their legs spread even wider, the hand not clutching the air filter clawing the wall beside their head. “Yes, yes, keep— please, p-please, I need—"</p><p>Swallowing thickly, Shiro slowly pushes the red tendrils apart and his middle finger slides inward with a wet slurp and rubs a tease into their small, glistening hole. Their breath crumbles into shallow, stuttered gasps as he deliberately slides in one knuckle… then the next, the juices of their arousal giving him easy entrance despite the very tight clench of their inner walls. He can feel them fluttering around him, soft flesh enveloping his finger and almost sucking it in while the tendrils rub madly against his arm, wrapping around it. Shiro pulls a trembling inhale, his fully hard cock throbbing and soaking up the inside of his boxers with pre. “God…”</p><p>Their warbling moans fluctuate between faltering and surging up as he strokes in and out, thighs stiffing enough for their entire body to quake as they dig the heels of their feet into the floor, trying to brace themselves. He can only restrain himself for a heartbeat longer before firmly working in a second finger, wringing a keen warble from the writhing alien. "<em>Please</em>." Excess fluids start to stretch with his movements, thin ropes clinging to his glove. "Please, ple-ase mnm," they hiccup. "more...!" Watching the tongue-tendrils flicking hot and wet against the damp suit, their hips pushing up to eat up his fingers and convulsing tightly around them, Shiro gives a slow nod Cyan probably doesn’t even see. He drags loose then plunges back into with a third finger, palpably straining them open and pushing a high, desperate moan from their throat.</p><p>Thumb swipes circles over the pink tentacle’s slit, teasing the folds of sensitive skin there and feeling them clench harder around his fingers with each flick, as he strokes slowly, firmly through that inexplicably tight hole. “Good?” He pants, his mouth watering at the same time his throat is dry. And maybe he’s enjoying this a little <em>too</em> much. None of this should be so goddamn hot. Not to Shiro at least, when he is as vanilla as you can get. When the kinkiest he ever got was letting someone tie him to the bed. And yet here he is, watching Cyan wail and scrabble for a better grip, shuddering, tendrils jolting and trembling as they start to rock their hips and their entire body begins to buck, riding his stroking fingers desperately – thinking they look damn good, with his own arousal twitching for attention he does not give, unwilling to retreat either hand of what they are doing.</p><p>Cyan hiccups, gasps in the humid air. “Ye-yes.” Their voice quavers, warps with a doubled register humans can’t make, hands searching blindly for some hold on the wall as their eyes squeeze shut. “Don’t—don’t stop, don’t—ah, ah!"</p><p>“I’m not gonna.” Knuckles butting against those tongue-tendrils with very loud squelching noises, his entire glove is coated in their liquids. Shiro licks his lips, glancing up to their very pretty expression, as they let out more and more equally pretty noises. “Are you close?”</p><p>Splayed knees shaking and they give a jerky nod, babbling trill-stained moans as the pink tentacle twists harder and harder in his grip. Layers of muscle ripple as Shiro crooks his fingers and Cyan cries out, so he immediately does it again – and finds a series of gentle creases on the upper side of their hole. He rubs his fingerpads against them with each stroke and Cyan’s cries grow nosier and higher, more desperate, until they abruptly arch, thighs snapping shut. “<em>D</em>—!” Their walls seize tight at his fingers with rhythmic, pulsating waves and their excess fluids drip down his wrist, just as pressure surges against the hand holding the pink tentacle. He curls his grip around it, only to realize it’s moving along the length.</p><p>He has the epiphany a second before he watches the puckered little slit spread open. A ruby red orb squeezes out with a violent shudder from Cyan, stringing slick as it slops onto his hastily positioned hand at the same time Cyan deflates back to the wall, gasping and panting noisily, eyelids fluttering.</p><p>Shiro carefully draws his fingers free, earning a whining mewl from his crewmate, and cups the egg with both hands. Or Cyan’s species equivalent of an egg, he assumes. Slightly bigger than a billiard ball, it’s warm and slightly soft, not weighing much as it glisters in the half-light of the O2. He makes a little ‘huh’ and looks back to the pink tentacle, still quivering and coiling over Cyan’s belly. “So, that’s an…” He doesn’t say ‘<em>egg-thingy</em>’ because it sounds a bit rude, but aside from that, he doesn’t know what to call it. Ovipositor? Is that even a word?</p><p>Azure skin gleaming faintly with sweat, Cyan pants harshly, knees still squirming a little together. “Doc…”</p><p>Depositing the egg beside his helmet, he leans in again. “I’m here. What do you need?”</p><p>Blue eyes shut tight and they curl forward, damp forehead meeting Shiro’s collarbone, their huffs of air brushing his chest. They whine, gripping their own twitching limb… other hand reaching down to slip between their thighs. “I- I still…”</p><p>He holds the underside of both their upper arms. “Not done yet?”</p><p>A faltering trill resonates.</p><p>“Okay,” he murmurs, gently rubbing. “I have an idea. But first, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”</p><p> “No,” they answer thickly. A quick inhale. “It- it was… I n-never…” Cyan trails off, as if embarrassed.</p><p>Shiro files the <em>‘I never</em>’ permanently in his memory, very aware of how his dick jumped at it. “It was good, then?”</p><p>A tiny, shy nod.</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>Cyan whines in protest when he moves away but quiets down when Shiro reaches for his suit’s release button. It suddenly relaxes around his body, releasing the vacuum-created grip, and it is both liberating and oppressive when Shiro peels it off until it's only hanging from his hips, the excessive heat of his body once regulated by the costume mixing with the humid heat of the room. Sweat breaks on his skin immediately, and as he slides his now bare hand into his boxers, the fabric of his clothes starts clinging to him.</p><p>He stifles a groan of almost relief when he pulls his aching cock out and fresh air caresses his beading head.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>, he’s a mess already.</p><p>There’s some scuffing and he looks up to see Cyan leaning forward, hair slipping down their shoulders to frame their face as they gaze at his arousal with some intense curiosity. They tilt their head and blue eyes flick to him, somehow bashfully. “Is that your…” They trail off and instead gesture vaguely at their crotch, an indigo blush spreading across their cheeks.</p><p>Shiro’s laugh is made of gravel, coming out in a breath. “The general purpose is the same, I think. But, uh.” His own face is hot. “My species don’t lay eggs. Our gestation is… internal.”</p><p>Cyan’s eyes widen. “I-internal?” They squeak. “But… I- I thought humans needed at least two people to procreate.”</p><p>“We do?”</p><p>“T-then how… the- the fertilization process…”</p><p>Shiro hums and crawls over slowly. They fall silent, shuffling a bit against the wall to adjust as they timidly open their legs when he touches them– they let out a soft trill when he kneels between their thighs much closer than before, peeking up at him a bit hesitant. “Well, you see… for humans, the eggs stay inside us. Around here.” He splays a hand over their belly where a uterus would be, feeling it shaking as they inhale a bit deeper, their fingers curling on the floor. “Half of our population have them. The other half…” His voice pitches even lower, one hand bracing on the wall beside their head while the other curls around one slender, cyan-colored leg and pushes it up, folding it against them. Cyan’s breath shakes and they slowly blush bright indigo as their neediness is exposed, tendrils pulsing and twisting subtly with life— “… have this.” A tiny hiccup slips from them when Shiro presses his hips forward, tip kissing the small patch of red skin between the tongue-tendrils and the ovipositor, before slipping up to nestle beside the pink limb, teasing the edge of the seam. They shiver against him and he can see the shock bloom in their eyes at the strange and unexpected contact, flush climbing all the way to their ears.</p><p>Sharp teeth are visible when their mouth falls open, letting out a breathy mewl. “D… Doc…?”</p><p>“Before our technology evolved, the only way we could reproduce was by fertilizing an egg...while it was <em>in</em> the other person...” The hand not holding their knee glides down that shuddering body, just barely grazing the skin-suit on their belly and chest before he takes hold of that twitching tendril between them – feeling its sleeked texture, soft and warm to his touch. Their shoulders rise and fall with uneven breaths as he strokes it, down to where his cockhead is pressed against the base.</p><p>“I-in the…? I- I don’t…” Their back arches and they gasp as he grinds lazily into that soft little nook and then pants softly, fumbling for his arms, whimpering as he continues to slowly thrust, his pre fluids slowly mixing with Cyan’s as he smears himself in their bountiful lubrication. “Mnn! Doc—”</p><p>“We had to push our cocks inside their little holes,” he murmurs against their forehead. “Fuck them… nice and hard… until they were ready to take our seed…”</p><p>Cyan clutches at his biceps, breathing getting heavier.</p><p>“Or make love… All sweet and slow… until all you can think about is how good you feel…” Shiro hums softly. They shiver – warm on either side of his cock, the tongue-tendrils seeps up to greet it. Soft, warm licks and brushes wrap around him, and Shiro groans in approving encouragement, leaning forward to rest more heavily on the hand on the wall. Trails of slick dribble down his thighs as he shifts his weight, grinding against them as he throbs with growing arousal.</p><p>“That—I —”</p><p>“Can I make love to you, Cyan?” Tilting his head, easing forward a bit – their breathings mingle and maybe it’s a bad idea to kiss someone whose teeth are sharper than a knife, but an all-consuming need is waving around the gaps of any coherent thoughts<strong>.</strong> Its grip suffocating. His heart is pounding. His entire body is a violin string plucked too hard, humming, and every grind seems to demand the next one, more and more. So, he grazes their lips together gently as he shifts his grip from them to himself, and with a smooth gliding motion, drags his drooling cockhead down their seam and between those tongue-tendrils, burrowing through that supple and twitching flesh in search of the hidden treasure. Even if the change from a slicked coarse texture to sinfully wet and smooth wasn’t enough of a tell, Cyan’s sudden, sharp shiver is, and Shiro tastes their small gasp with a soft sigh, resisting the urge to push deeper. “Can I fuck you?”</p><p>Cyan claws his shoulders blindly, unsteady, before finally grabbing fistfuls of his shirt in a punishing grip. “Doc, Doc—please,” Their thighs are trembling, the one not pushed to their chest pressing tight to his waist. “Please—just please, please-”</p><p>Shiro gives a throaty hum. “Very well.” Sliding their leg over a shoulder, Shiro moves to take hold of those blue hips, lets a deep, hot breath roll from his nose—and oblige them with a firm roll of his hips. The first touch slides him easily into that warmth—that alien cunt opening to accept him readily at first, a soft groan threading in his throat as that wet hug of flesh then clenches around the head of his cock, resisting. Tongue-tendrils flex around him to rub and squeeze in a manner worthy of their moniker, and Shiro bites his lips, balls churning and pumping a fat wad of precum against their insides. His arms burn as he grinds through that tightness, hearing Cyan keening at each inch he so slowly gains, heel from the leg curled around him digging into the small of his back as their back leaves the wall, whole body shaking as he draws back a hint and pushes in again. Struggling to keep it slow, to be gentle—to resist the urge to slam into them with all his strength. He sucks the air sharply, breathing shallowly. Opens hazy eyes without recollection of when he closed them, seeing Cyan with their own screwed shut, mouth hanging open as they gasp and yowl every time he pushes his hips forward.</p><p>He groans thickly, and grabbing the back of their neck and their waist, he thrusts one long, powerful push. Cyan cries out a beautiful sound, their head craning up against the wall and Shiro looks down between their bodies at where his cock is disappearing into Cyan’s hole that expands the more it swallows, Shiro’s length fat and steely hard among the squirming soft tentacles. Sparks shoot up his spine, heat pooling in his stomach, and he grits his teeth and clenches his abdomen muscles to stave off the approaching orgasm, slowly grinding to the hilt inside his crewmate.</p><p>His lungs empty in one go, tongue pressing against the back of his teeth. It’s s-so <em>tight</em>… He breathes in harshly and breathes out, sharp huffs of air against Cyan’s own wet gasps, feeling his hair and shirt clinging to his skin. “<em>Doc</em>,” they cry, his shirt bunched in their tight, trembling grip. “Doc, Doc—” Their whole body is trembling, actually, quaking, ovipositor twisting uncontrollably between them, red tendrils pulsating and squirming curled between and over his thighs. Shiro bites down a moan as they tighten to an almost excruciating, rippling grip on him and the knee presses hard against his shoulder as they arch, crying out and shuddering, and a snarl swells in his throat as his control slips and he snaps his hips forward, grinding through that tightness.</p><p>So good it <em>hurts</em>. “Fuck—” Shiro gasps. “Fuck, fuck.” He has to plaster their bodies together – chest to chest and arms tight around their waist – to stop himself from doing it again, to stop himself from drawing back and shoving back in hard and fast, pleasure rippling up and down his back and his heart a thundering thing. Because if he doesn’t calm down, that is it. One more thrust and he’ll come like a goddamn teenager on their first time, and that is not how he wants this to go. He has no idea if this is Cyan’s first time with a human and if it’s not, then Shiro at least wants to give the best impression of himself.</p><p>So, he forces himself to take deep breaths, forehead pressed to the cold metal of the wall behind Cyan, and tries to gather his self-control. By the time Cyan’s shuddering calms down and they heave, relaxing their crushing grip to less painful degrees, Shiro has managed to back away from the edge enough that he risks leaning back a little.</p><p>“Cyan, are you…” He stops when something shifts between their abdomens and slips away. He looks down in confusion—and sees two ruby orbs slowly rolling away from them, leaving a trail of slick on the floor. Eggs.</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>“I’m- I’m sorry,” Cyan begs with sudden breathless panic, the hands that had gone lax suddenly retaking their trembling grip. “I didn’t m-mean to— I–, p-please, don’t pull it out yet!”</p><p>“<em>God</em>, Cyan.” Cyan shudders at their name, drawing still fast and trembling breaths that caress the skin of his neck as Shiro moves his hands around them to hoist them over his lap. He shifts his weight forward and their leg slips from his shoulder and joins its sibling around Shiro’s waist, azure arms wrapping a tight hug around his neck as they let out a wordless protesting cry when he presses them against the wall, raising to his knees and holding them away from the floor by their surprisingly thick ass. Touching his forehead against their damp temple, Shiro’s lips graze the corner of their mouth as he groans, the sound hoarse as it rasps out of his throat, “did you just come from being penetrated?”</p><p>Cyan whimpers. “I-I am sorry.”</p><p>The sounds that leave Shiro are less of a moan and more of a growl. “Fuck.” He grips their soft cheeks and slowly drags out with a loud, sucking sound, slick dripping to the floor under them.</p><p>Cyan gasps loudly, then jolts, legs jerking in frantic little kicks as they claw his back, trying to hold him in place. “No, no, no, please- please,” they sob. “Don’t pull it out, pleas—!”</p><p>Shiro pounds in suddenly, powerfully, and a yowl rips from Cyan mid-begging as their head flings up. He snarls, fingers digging into their tender rear, and drags back to slam in again and bounce off for another stroke and another and another – hips smacking noisily against their open slit and those soft, jolting tentacles, chasing that wondrous, terrible pressure that lingers around his cock even when he draws back, addicted to the feeling of those red tendrils pressing at each side of his length as he forces in and out of their hole. Cyan stares at the ceiling, head giving a few jolting bobs as Shiro rocks their body roughly up and down against the wall, lips trembling apart and yet not making a sound – their hands froze around fistfuls of his shirt, legs wrapped almost limply around his waist.</p><p>He can smell them. Since he stepped inside this room without the bothersome barrier of a helmet, this sweetness Shiro cannot explain has permeated the air, building up in the back of his throat until each swallow is candy-coated. But now, it is stronger, more vivid and astonishing, with a touch of saltiness that he thinks—knows comes from his own more inelegant scent, of human sweat and male musk, for all that their naked body is slick with sweat as well. Their body is unimaginably soft against his own, yielding readily to his grips and pushes. Skin smooth and warm to his fingers, not a trace of their previous mimicry of a suit texture. They are shaking—the spell of silence suddenly breaks as he holds them firmly in roving, needy hands as his hips pound in industriously, Cyan noisily gasping for air before letting their head fall forward again onto Shiro’s shoulder, arms snagging around his neck like vines as their legs quiver and jerk, uncertain of what to do under this unrelenting assault. There’s a wet little thud beside them, the ovipositor twisting with heavy shudders between their stomachs-–and Shiro knows without looking that another egg slid out.</p><p>“God.” A gravelly groan bursts from him as he nuzzles their neck, just a single gasping sound of bottomless delight. “You’re so fucking good. So lovely and tight, fuck—<em>So good</em>—"</p><p>“Ah! Ah! D- Ah!” Back bowing and arching and they are wailing, somewhere between singing and screaming, fumbling and clawing his back and muffling the musical alto bursting from their throat on Shiro, so much that he can feel pointed fangs grazing his skin, the sting eased by the occasional brush of a thin tongue. He holds them tight to the wall, arms and thighs burning with strain as he claims that alien cunt with solid, constant, unrelenting strokes, desperate for that sweet moment of stretched tightness around the thick of his base, when the battered softness of those red tendrils grinds in tight against his very root and his length is wrapped in a fluttering mess of liquid and heat. The insides of his thighs are wet, his balls tightening—and Shiro knows he is not going to last much longer.</p><p>His breath is deep and heavy as his powerful rutting falters, sacrificing rhythm in favor of erratic, panting draws and abrupt, powerful stabs into those hot depths, hips jerking and plowing in again and again of their own accord. “Doc, Doc—Doc!” they sob. “No—p-please—!” Fluid drips to the floor continuously in a soft background to the loud squelch of Shiro’s cock, which makes an obscene amount of slick squirt out at every plunge, stretching thick ropes between them at each draw. The ovipositor is spasming again, trembling against their side with a slosh of liquid, and Cyan whimpers, moans, legs trembling and writhing and sweat-slippery hands scrambling to keep a hold on Shiro’s shoulders and hair. “Again—you’re—you’re g-going to make me— I—!” They stutter their next breaths and words, plea ringing distressed, <em>desperate</em>—</p><p>Balls drawing taut, and a snarl bursts from him and his entire body lunges into the final blow, slapping noisily against their cunt and shoving them onto the wall. A single thrumming cry bursts from Cyan—tendrils all go rigid, thighs snapping taut, and familiar rhythmic, milking motions of orgasm close around Shiro as he fires deep into them, blasting through the depths of their body, rocking slightly with slow grinds. They pant frantically, hands tight on his hair, their body a quivering, wretched thing against Shiro’s. "Nng... hot..." They moan weakly, face buried on his neck. "I-its—hot..."</p><p>Shiro hoarsely groans his own shivering delight, vision fluttering before his eyes slowly drift shut. The sluggish shift of their tongue-tendrils, slipping from his hips to graze against his still clothed flexing sack sends a shudder through him, and he pours more into them, cock pulsing and tingling as he comes more than he thought possible. Cyan whimpers and heaves, and watery fluid slips between where they are pressed together, wet little thuds hitting the floor below as their legs wane around his waist, feet trembling in the air with little jerks.</p><p>Shiro honestly can’t say if they’re actually orgasming multiple times or if it’s a long, continuous climax since he started pumping. Either way, he is happy to sag over Cyan when the waves of his own orgasm finally abate, heavy head finding their shoulder while still tightly hilted, panting out his exhaustion in beat with his alien crewmate’s unsteady breathing – happy he managed to pleasure them, even if in the last two minutes he had become more focused on himself.</p><p>Hands relaxing in their grip, Shiro rubs Cyan’s hips and cheeks both in an apology and to soothe the soreness he most likely caused. Cyan whimpers. Their own tight grip finally, finally relaxes, and together they recover their breath in the sudden silence, even as Shiro pumps his last into their flooded insides.</p><p>A few moments later, the ovipositor goes lax between them and Cyan’s legs go limp around his waist. As gently as he can, Shiro lowers them from the wall – not baring the thought of separating yet, he ignores his own protesting arms and back and sits on the floor, keeping them on his lap. Chin tucked over their shoulder, he draws slow trails on their shivering, damp back, feeling their chest pressing together as they both breathe more calmly.</p><p>“Better?” He asks quietly.</p><p>Cyan makes a little, faltering trill and nod, sweaty blue hair tickling his neck. “Thank you,” they croak out.</p><p>Shiro hums. “Entirely my pleasure.” He inhales a bit deeper and then leans back to look at them, hand finding the curve of their jaw. “I didn’t hurt you, though, did I? I know I got rough at the end. I’m sorry about that.”</p><p>They shake their head. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yes. I—” They fidget with his shirt as blue eyes flick down, indigo flush turning brighter. “T-that was—uh, you don’t have to- to... I— it w-was …”</p><p>“Good?” Shiro finishes, helpless to stop a little smirk from forming on his lips. He is just a man, after all.</p><p>Cyan hides their face in their hands.</p><p>After a beat, they nod.</p><p>Shiro chuckles. “I’m glad to hear it.” He tucks a blue strand behind an azure ear and caresses their cheek. “Don’t know how it usually goes for your species, so I was a bit worried I would end up doing something wrong. Or just be too weird for you.”</p><p>They curl their hands under their chin and press against his touch – there’s a faint little sound, that if he didn’t know better, he would call a purr. “Not weird, just—unusual,” they say softly. “I—my species don’t really need c-contact between individuals. We, uh, fertilize the eggs after they… you know.”</p><p>Shiro does know. He can see something close to a dozen ruby orbs laying in puddles of slick, scattered around them.</p><p>“So, once the heat is over, we just deliver the eggs to a clinic… or a partner. If we want to.”</p><p>Heat, huh. Well, he had guessed it might be something like that. But more importantly: “so, wait, you usually go through this on your own? Even if you have a… partner?”</p><p>A small shrug.</p><p>“Huh.” He looks down to where they are still connected, tendrils slithering lethargically against his stomach. The thrill of arousal this causes is as bizarre as the first time. “Gotta say, very different from humans.”</p><p>They—squeal, for lack of a better descriptor. “You—you always do like this?” They sound adorably flustered and stunned. Which does wonders for his pride.</p><p>He clears his throat. “Well, there’s some of us who lack interest in sex. But among those who like it, the consensus is that doing it with someone else is always better than doing it by yourself.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Shiro watches their expression for a moment, the way they seem to be absorbing this. Then he slides his arms around their waist and slowly bucks his hips, grinding against that soft heat that is their insides. They gasp, back arching immediately as they grab his shoulders.</p><p>Pupil-less blue eyes turn wide to him, their dwelling blush back full force.</p><p>This time, it’s Shiro who almost purrs. “Keep this in mind next time this happens, and come find me. Okay?”</p><p>“O-okay,” they answer, a bit breathless.</p><p>Shiro grins.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“By the way, does one egg equal one orgasm?”</p><p>“D-Doc!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shout out to Kadorath for helping editing this!</p><p>Hey guys, feel free to visit me in my <a href="https://whitesheepwrites.tumblr.com">tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>